Yet Rosalind would not for an instant yield weakly to what seemed the inevitable and permanent loss of her dearly prized property. She was brimming with fight, even though she did not know how to fight, or whom.
"I'll get it!" she whispered grimly. "I'll get it if I have to burn down the hotel."
As she glanced helplessly about her, her eyes met those of Reggy Williams, approaching from the doorway that led to the ballroom.
Here was fresh dismay. Reggy could not—must not—look into that fateful showcase! He was coming to her swiftly, and Rosalind, pulling herself together sharply, advanced to meet him.
"What's the attraction?" he asked, looking over her shoulder.
"Oh, nothing. Let's go out on the porch."
"But what's the stuff in the glass case?" he persisted, trying to dodge past her.
She grasped him firmly by the arm.
"Please take me outside, Reggy," she said. "I want some air. Nothing there but some things they're going to sell for the Belgians. They're—not interesting."
It was Rosalind who took Reggy outside, rather than Reggy who assisted Rosalind. She did it with an expedition and a determination that puzzled him, particularly when, having walked him to the farther end of the porch, she turned him over to Polly Dawson with a severe injunction—whispered—to make him sit down and keep quiet for half an hour.